The light only flashes briefly, seeking its way through the heavy iron-framed shutters of the Red Unicorn, before a deafening roll of thunder is heard. For a moment everything seems quiet, but then the incessant pattering of the rain can be heard again. Only slowly do conversations resume in the crowded inn, just to be silenced once again by another of Rondra's thunderbolts.

@Adessa:
You are just glad that you finally made it to the inn. Just a second ago you dodged some falling wooden shingles and your cloak is already completely soaked. You've seen many a storm surge against Havena's lower town, but weather like this away from the coast...

@Corian:
Oh, thank the goddess you still got a seat. When Magister Rauma von Rondentrutz wrote in the 3rd edition of her work "Kosch, its mountains and valleys. A topographical treatise" about "sudden weather changes in late summer", you think she could have mentioned the words "torrent", "cloudbursts" and "ankle-deep mud" more often. Speaking of ankle-deep, the dwarves crowding around the same table as you are looking like their beer is going sour at any moment since she discovered your staff....

Adessa slumbers into the Unicorn and pulls back his rain soaked cloak and looks for an open table closest to the hearth for sum well needed rest,  while eagerly waiting for a hot cup of herbal tea, hot stew  and a Spirit shot to wash it down. He recognizes no one at first glance and finds an open small table as he looks for the bar maid to fulfil his thirst.

quote:

He recognizes no one at first glance and finds an open small table as he looks for the bar maid to fulfil his thirst.

Due to the hustle and bustle in the inn, it takes quite a while before a barmaid turns to Adessa: What would you like?

"Ahh, I thought you were ignoring me because of my looks....I'll take some hot tea, the best stew you have and a Spirit shot, make that two... please my lady!"
This message was last edited by the player at 21:17, Mon 19 Apr 2021.

She smiles wryly, "Far stranger folk find their way to the Red Unicorn, we're just overrun today. It's a mess out there though, isn't it?"

Eyeing the dwarves from the corner of his eye by his seat close to the fireplace, Corian instinctively pulled his staff a bit closer to his chair, but otherwise merely gave them a curt nod coupled with what he hoped was a friendly smile.

He had walked in to the Red Unicorn only a short while back; despite the rainfall outside Corian's plain looking gray robes had been suspiciously dry with only a few wet patches, though his boots were covered with mud. While he had been a resident of Kosh for most of his life, much of that had been spent at Magister Alrik Dagabor's tower, with nary hardly a time to explore the outside world.

So when, after his old master proclaimed him a graduate and conferred upon him the title of Adeptus Minor and told him it was nigh time he left the tower to make his own way in the world for a bit, Corian had only been too eager to jump at the opportunity.

While he enjoyed himself at the beginning, all too soon the young mage began to miss his home with Magister Alrik, especially during the nights spent on hard earth or harder floors. Today seemed to be becoming one of those days; in all his days Corian could not recall witnessing a storm such as this one. He had been only too happy to spot the inn and barge inside quickly.

"A hot mug of tea my lady, with a dollop of honey and a teaspoon of spice," he said cordially to the barmaid when she walked by him. Corian's speech immediately marked him as a man of at least some learning and etiquette (and no doubt an easy mark for those with roguish intentions nearby).

It takes a considerable time for the barmaid to make another round but it's worth the wait. The jugs are filled to the brim and the wooden plates groan under the weight of the generous portions.

The storm, on the other hand, seems to know no pause or rest and has only increased in strengt. Most of the guests seem to be getting used to the idea of spending the night in the Red Unicorn. 

In reply to Yerodin (msg # 7):

As Adessa ponders the barmaid's question, he notices seated next to the rowdy dwarves falling off their stools a particular fella robed in gray, thinking to himself, I know him from somewhere, but I'm unable to identify this person. Could he be an associate I owed a debt to, or someone I lifted a coin purse from.....

"Yes my lady, a storm of the century as they say, I have have a question for you as well, the man over by the crowd of dwarves  wearing a a gray robe, would you happen to know this gentleman? I have a suspicion of recollection but cannot place him"

"Nah, but from the way the good gentleman speaks and what he says, I'd say he is a travelling scholar. Say what brings you to Honningen?"
This message was last edited by the GM at 18:03, Wed 21 Apr 2021.

Taking a cautious sip of his hot beverage, Corian felt it warming him instantly as it went down his throat. Putting down the cup he leaned back in his chair and allowed himself to relax a bit as he adjusted to his new environs. He pulled back the cowl on his cloak, letting the light of the fire shine on his youthful features and his shoulder length silver hair.

The roaring and crashing of the storm had made him jumpy to say the least, and Corian felt quite pleased to have found shelter when he did. He took time to glance at the other patrons, and it appeared to him most, including the dwarves were regular patrons. One individual appeared to be an outsider like him, going by the way he sat along at a small table, whispering something to the barmaid.

A sudden flash of recollection came upon him, and Corian could have sworn he had seen that fellow somewhere...

In reply to Yerodin (msg # 9):

"Aye, he does look like the literate type. I've been on the road a few days and just needed to get in from this horrible storm, I really needed a rest."

Truth is: Acting on a favor, Adessa is actually scouting out a particular group of bandit thugs, who have been scourging the local trade route, which is effecting a very powerful merchant back home, and in turn effecting an even more powerful individual.

"Hmm..., then I hope for your sake that you have prepared yourselves for not too much rest. The dormitories are already sold out and it seems you'll have to make do with a sleeping bag in the taproom if you want to spend the night here."

As the hour wears on, the thunder seems to recede into the distance, but still the rain pelts relentlessly against the windows. The taproom slowly empties. More and more guests make their way home or head upstairs for the night's rest.

It is not long before you are some of the few who remain in the taproom.

In reply to Yerodin (msg # 12):

Adessa observes who is remaining and looks to make conversation, always trying to gather information to get him home quicker.

You don't seem to be the only one who has been waiting for this moment. An elderly grocer with snow-white hair, matted clothes and a fully-baked rucksack turns to you. Numerous trinkets, from small pendants to crookedly carved spoons, hang from small ribbons from his travel bag. Your trained gaze tells you that he certainly doesn't have to fear being mugged.

"Say, say good sir. You look like you could use some equipment and divine assistance for your further journey."


You too, Corian, notice how the parlour is rapidly emptying as the hour grows nearer, and even the hard-drinking dwarven-folk seem to prefer an earlier hour today. Apart from you, a strange grocer and the person who seems strangely familiar to you, there is no one left in the taproom. The rain can still be heard outside, but something seems different...^<INT?>
This message was last edited by the GM at 14:36, Fri 23 Apr 2021.

Though the man's features tickled something in the back of Corian's mind, he avoided meeting his gaze, not wanting to draw undue attention to himself.

The taproom slowly yet surely emptied as he finished his cup of tea; hearing the rooms were all full it seemed he would have to spend the night in the commons. Shaking his head slowly as he took one last sip, the mage wistfully recalled his comfortable bed in Magister Dagabor's tower, with its cozy fireplace and his own small library of beloved books and tomes.

Why did I ever leave? he thought for perhaps the hundreth time this month.

The taproom had nearly fully emptied of patrons by this time, thankfully the dwarves were also gone. Only a strange, senile looking old man remained, and he appeared to be hawking some suspect looking goods to the other remaining patron. As Corian stared at him again his eyes widened as a sudden memory from years back struck him!

It had been a fleeting moment at a country fair Magister Dagabor had given him leave to go to, along with a purse full of coin to spend. Only a little while into the fair that very same pouch had been stolen by the man speaking to the grocer. He had led Corian a merry chase through the crowd until the young mage tripped on his own robes and lost sight of him. Despite the years that had passed Corian was certain it was him; for months his smirking face echoed by the mocking laughter of the crowd as he had fallen had haunted Corian, giving him many a sleepless night.

"You! I remember you, you stole my money at the Oldenbridge fair years ago!" Corian said loudly, pointing an accusatory finger towards the other man. There was not any malice or even anger in Corian's tone, only shock and surprise at having met his thief again after such a long time.

---

ooc: Yerodin, I assume you want an INT check. If so:

Intuition Check: 07

Adeesa, disregards the traveling junk salesman for now and soon realizes this man yelling at him was the gentleman he lifted a purse from  that run down fair years ago, if memory serves him right, he was flaunting those coins like a jester juggling colored pins. It was an easy con and profitable as well.

<pre>“My good Sir, please be careful with your accusations of such thievery, I’ve never seen you in my life, and  I’ve never heard of this such fair, you  must be mistaken. By the way where are you from anyway? Where I’m from accusations like that get you in a world of hurtin.”

Corian scowled as the man brushed off his accusations and actually threatened him in turn.

What cheek! Corian thought, a surge of rising anger welling up inside of him. He was sure the thief had recognized him and could just feel the man smirking at him on the inside, but there was little he could do here in a public place without evidence. Heck, given that the event had occurred many years ago, Corian wasn't really sure he wanted to do anything about it now, but the memory of his humiliation still rankled. He couldn't let the thief get off too easily, his conscience would never forgive him.

Leaving his travel bag and staff propped up by his chair, Corian stalked forward to stand in front of the man, fists balled up in indignation. "My name is Corian, good sir, and this is no mere accusation, as I am sure you well remember. The fair was in Oldenbridge, about six years ago. A village girl had taken quite the liking to me before your stunt, after that she only laughed when she saw me."

That was the bit that rankled the most...Corian may have lost his virginity on that day had it not been for the thief and his illegal antics!
This message was last edited by the player at 17:26, Sat 24 Apr 2021.

The old grocer moves aside, confused by the whole situation and almost as if a finger had been pointed at him too many times in his life.

The innkeeper of the Unicorn, on the other hand, steps out from behind the counter, arms raised reassuringly in the air: "Gentlemen, who is about to..." when suddenly there is a deafening clap of thunder, followed by a loud thud and the hiss of flames.

Before you know it, the lower floor is covered in darkness.  The fireplace, which was blazing just a moment ago, only glimmers and the individual oil lamps seem to have given up the ghost at the very same time.

Even the rain can no longer be heard...
...an eerie silence seems to spread, as if Boron himself had put a cloak over the Red Unicorn.

In reply to Yerodin (msg # 18):

Adessa, crouches to a lower stance as he struggles to see directly in front of him and tries to orient himself on a way out.

Corian blinked in the sudden darkness, unable to comprehend what had happened. Then he crouched as if by instinct, as they told him something was very wrong.

And it wasn't just the unnatural darkness. "The rain...I can't hear it," he whispered to the others softly, forming the words through lips that had gone dry.

Then the hairs on the back of his head rose and he knew they were not alone. "We are being watched by someone...or something," he added in another ominous whisper.

Feeling almost naked without his staff in hand, Corian held up his hand in the darkness and focused his mind, calling to it. There was a whisper of movement and suddenly he felt his staff smack into his open palm, his fingers closing about the familiar comfort of the solid oaken wood.

---

Action: Staff Apportation (1 AE cost)

Action II: Making a Magical Lore check to try and determine the origin of the darkness (is it a spell? or something else?)

Magical Lore (SGC/SGC/INT) check: 18/02/08 vs 14/14/14

Result: With a SR of 04 the check is a QL 1 success

@Adessa: You would be lying if you said you didn't earn your daily bread in the shadows. But shadows and pitch darkness are different things. And you wouldn't be alive for a long time if you didn't know that.
Just like in the evenings, when the strangely dense fog rises from the flooded lower city of Havena, it would probably be best to leave now.

@Corian: There was undoubtedly magic at work here. But this was not the handwriting of a guild mage. Something more primal, more emotional, even wilder, perhaps?


Suddenly the rain from outside can be heard again and a wailing whimper can be made out in the blackness. And every sob makes the hairs on the back of your neck stand up more...

Talent test: Courage!
This message was last edited by the GM at 15:31, Tue 27 Apr 2021.

In reply to Yerodin (msg # 21):

COU check: 14
This message was last edited by the player at 19:31, Tue 27 Apr 2021.

The sound of rain was a welcome relief somehow despite the darkness, but the sudden sobbing made Corian's skin crawl. He swallowed, feeling a primal fear well up from deep within him.

They needed to get out of here, though it was stormy outside at least they would not be confined in a closed space, in utter darkness. But Corian couldn't make out if the sobbing was coming from outside the inn or inside...with them.

They needed light he decided quickly, if for nothing else then to be able to make it to the door of the inn. Knowing the light would make him a target he still focused his mind, trying to overcome his fear, and softly intoned the formula for one of his most used spells while making a sign in the darkness with two extended fingers of his free hand.

---

COU check: 18


This message was last edited by the player at 21:01, Tue 27 Apr 2021.

From one moment to the next, the darkness gives way and the Red Unicorn's interior is enveloped in a bluish light. You squint your eyes, so stark is the contrast with the previous darkness. The furniture slowly takes shape again, and you can already make out the outlines of the old grocer and the innkeeper, who have thrown themselves trembling on the floor, but...

...there is nothing else there. No shape, no person, no being can be made out. Only the smoke from the oil lamps and the sound of a damp fireplace. And then there is that sobbing again, which seems to come from under the floorboards. Perhaps you should get to the bottom of it or rather flee out the door? Whatever your decision, your legs refuse to serve you.

At first it is sheer fear, but step by step you are overcome by a strange sadness....

Corian squinted in the light from his spell, nothing the cowering forms of the strange old man and the innkeeper. He gazed towards the thief as well, and noted the man appeared to be handling it better than the others.

Corian's instincts urged him to run, but for some reason his legs refused to obey, paralyzed it seemed by fear. The primal feeling gave way to a sudden sadness then, echoing the sadness he could hear in the strange sobbing sound that appeared to come from underneath the floorboards.

"Try to get out while the light lasts," he croaked to the others. If he couldn't move just yet, Corian could try to see the cause of this strangness.

Softly he chanted the words to another spell to try and peer through the floorboards, but the cavalcade of emotions running through him made him mispronouce the words, and his spell failed.

Taking a deep breath, he tried again, slowly intoning the formula for the spell while tracing an invisible pattern with his free hand. A muted glow flashed over his eyes, and Corian quickly turned his head, staring at the floorboards trying to find the source of the sobbing...

---

Casting Penetrizel: 1st roll failed. Used a Fate point to reroll the 18 I got for INT but that failed as well. -6 AE

Casting Penetrizzel again (2 actions): QL 3 Success! (see through 30 inches of solid matter) -4 AE


01:52, Today: Corian rolled 14 using 3d20 with rolls of 5,6,3.  Casting Penetrizzel again COU/CGC/INT.
01:49, Today: Corian rolled 19 using 1d20 with rolls of 19.  Using Fate Point to reroll INT.
01:44, Today: Corian rolled 48 using 3d20 with rolls of 15,15,18.  Casting Penetrizzel COU/CGC/INT.

Adessa, struggles to move his legs as if in a paralyzed state, he peers over at the wizard and it appears he's in the same state as he attempts to conjure a spell, as the terrible sobbing continues from somewhere below.

Adessa, will drag himself towards the door...

Finally your gaze penetrates the wooden floor below you and lets you see the outline of a dark cellar vault, which seems to be slightly flooded. You are surprised at all to see. Pitch black darkness could have awaited you. But instead these rooms are illuminated by a ghostly, bluish glow. And only a moment later you see its source: a ghost, a woman it seems, wrapped in a cloak and crying bitterly. Are her tears the source of the water in the cellar....? Nonsense! Probably only the rainwater found a way down, didn't it?


Slowly you pull yourself towards the door and with every metre the strength seems to return to your body. But at the same time you have the feeling that you are drowning more and more in an ocean of sadness and guilt...?

Horrified and intrigued at the same time, Corian gaped at the sight of the ghost, then proceeded to inform the others still in the commons of what he saw.

"Did you know anything about this?" he blurted out a question to the cowering innkeeper? "Did something happen here we should know about, a tragedy perhaps?"

Grasping his staff Corian rapped it onto the floorboards, trying to see if he could get the ghosts attention...or perhaps scare it away??

---

ooc: Does the feeling of sadness/fear still permeate? If so, can Corian move his legs of his own free will?

The innkeeper's eyes widen: "A ghost? In my...  by Boron, I know nothing of a tragedy! Here take the keys to the cellar... You are a sorcerer, aren't you? Conjure...conjure him away!"

"I am an Adeptus," Corian corrected the innkeeper with a hint of annoyance in his tone, despite the situation. Technically a Mage of the Guild was the proper reply but that could result in questions about 'which guild exactly' as well as requests to see his guild-seal by those who know of such matters; and since Corian was guildless it could result in an uncomfortable situation or worse, assuming they were able to resolve their current predicament.

"Thank you," he added, swiping the keys to the cellar from the innkeeper. Corian was surprised at his boldness given the circumstances; his fear had receded though the feeling of sadness was still there, likely due to the ghost and it somehow projecting its own emotions upon the living nearby.

The mage's instincts implored him to walk away from the situation but he felt his natural curiosity begin to take over his common sense (as it usually did!). Not to mention this was perhaps the most exciting thing that had happened to him since he had left his master's tower, and Corian did like a good mystery to solve.

"Which way to the cellar my good man?" he asked the innkeeper, before glancing at the thief who was trying to slink out of the inn and adding, "Come on, let's see if we can't get to the bottom of this. Help me with this and I'll consider us even for your theft."

As he walked towards the cellar Corian wracked his mind, trying to recall anything useful he might have read or heard about ghosts and in dealing with them.

---

Corian won't be maintaining Penetrizel, and will let it expire. Before it expires he will take another quick careful look around just in case there is anything else in the cellar aside from the ghost though.

Action: Magical Lore Check to recall anything useful about ghosts and in dealing with them. Result: QL 1 Success

As you open the door to the cellar, you quickly review your accumulated knowledge of ghosts: Regardless of their frightening aura, ghosts are rarely malevolent. They are usually confused or emotionally disturbed. This doesn't necessarily make it easier to figure out what is keeping them in this world, an unfulfilled promise, a curse, an unpunished wrong?
This message was last edited by the GM at 19:53, Fri 14 May 2021.

After unlocking the door Corian carefully withdrew the key and put it into one of the pouches on his belt. He didn't want to risk someone locking the door behind them, who knew, this could be a trap where the innkeeper regularly fed poor unsuspecting visitors to the ghost in his basement?

Corian recalled that was close to the very plot of a horror themed novel he had borrowed from Magister Dagabor's extensive library; it had kept him from sleeping for many a night!

That was silly ofcourse, the logical part of the mage's mind argued; but childhood fears were sometimes hard to completely deny.

Regardless, he crept forward cautiously into the cellar, trying to get close to the source of the sobbing.

Slowly you step down the stairs until your feet touch the flooded floor. The sobs and moans grow louder with each step, but to your surprise you feel safer as closer you get. The creepy ghost stories of the past fade more and more and finally go out like a candle in the wind the moment the ghostly figure turns around.

You look into the almost transparent face of a woman who has not seen thirty godsyears before she died. The clothes remind you strongly of the man on the floor above you, perhaps they both shared the same profession? Tears stream down her face and her hands begin to tremble when she sees you...   

A gradual calm fell upon Corian as he approached the apparition, and he breathed easier and walked with more confidence as he got closer. As the ghostly figure turned towards him with her tears and sadness, Corian felt a sudden pity for her.

This was obviously someone who had gone through something tragic; tragic enough to possibly stave off the hold of Boron himself and prevent passage into the afterlife. Perhaps helping to right whatever wrong had been done to her, the mage could ease her passing.

The mage noted the similarity of the clothes to the man upstairs, but did not say anything about it yet. Instead he gently spoke, "My lady...my name is Corian. Can you tell me yours, and why is it you cry so? What makes you so sad?"

---

ooc: Just to be clear, the ghost's clothes match which man, the old tradesman or the innkeeper?

"My name is Funthrudveig and I cry over my own deeds. Have you ever done things that the gods have never forgiven you for?"

"Well I..." Corian sputtered a bit over the unexpected question. Pursing his lips he considered the apparitions words before finally giving a more composed reply, "No. I try my best not to antagonize anyone, mortal or otherwise. Why, what is it that you did, or what you think you did?"

"I have slain a blessed one of the gods in greed and here I am now damned for all time. But perhaps you can at least ease my conscience, if not appease the gods?"

Corian's brow raised at the reply but he managed to maintain his composure, and said after only a moment's hesitation; "We all make mistakes, either ones of our own doing or those forced upon us by other people, or by circumstance. Tell me your story...and perhaps I can find a way to put you at east."

---

ooc: Sorry about the delay, RL got hectic for a bit

The spirit looks at you sadly and it almost seems to you as if it would become smaller: "It was in the festival year. People were celebrating all over the kingdom, but I didn't feel like celebrating. A deal had turned out to my disadvantage and, to make matters worse, I was accused of theft. A theft that I had not committed!"

For a moment the voice of the woman becomes louder, almost thunderous, before it becomes abruptly quiet again: "So I had to leave the place of my birth, my beloved Gareth and fled over the Griffin Pass. But luck was not with me here either, and it was not long before I was poor and maltreated. I had never been rich and was satisfied with little, but so poor... I prayed to the gods, begged, pleaded...nothing! I had almost given up hope when one day I ran into the blessed one of Efferd. I asked him for a few coins, I even hoped I could accompany him to Havena, try my luck on the sea... but he... this arrogance... his look... this man...'he had no time, it was urgent, I was unimportant...'

When he had turned away from me I just hit him – over and over again. I dragged his bloody corpse into the forest and took his coins. Even his amulet, his robe and the scrolls he had with him I took. If the people already called me a thief and the gods didn't care about me, why should I care about them and not be what I was anyway in the eyes of the people?

I burned the robe and the writings at the next opportunity, but.... but... it didn't work." The woman's voice begins to tremble, she almost seems to panic:

"The flames took it all, but the one book, just didn't burn... it was all damp...as if fingers could sink into it. So I threw it away and ran as fast as my legs could go. It took me a whole day to realize it was back in my bag, just like that...like I never threw it away. That feeling on my hands, like my fingers were sinking into the mud...deeper and deeper...I can hear the sea...they are full of blood...everything is full of blood..." Eyes unnaturally wide, the woman stares at her hands and her entire appearance trembles....
This message was last edited by the GM at 09:29, Wed 02 June 2021.

Corian was horrified at the apparition's tale but tried his best to keep his face calm and impassive. He had expected to hear ills and misfortunes, and likely at least one major injustice that had befallen her, but this...he had not expected her to have committed murder. And of a blessed one no less.

"We...we all succumb to our baser desires my lady, especially when we are desperate," he said, trying to console her and make sense of what she said she had done. "But one single act should never define anyone's entire life," he added more firmly, even giving a small smile of comfort to the spirit.

"Go on then, be brave and tell me what happened after. Did the book cause you to end your life, or did something else happen?" he asked her curiously, wanting to hear the entire tale and how she ended up here in the basement of the inn as a spirit.

---

Sorry again about the delay; things have settled down for now and I'll be able to post regularly again. Anyhow, I want to roll to see if Corian might recall anything about such a book as the spirit mentions, but not sure what to roll; Religion? Myths & Legends? Magical Lore? Something else?

The apparition startles at your words, "No, no I buried it all, the book, the amulet, everything.... In an abandoned farm, not far from here. A few days later, starving, I snuck into the inn cellar. The door was closed behind me when the storm started and the cellar was running full of water...please, I beg you.... help me right my wrongs! Please, please!!"

"I see, you drowned then," Corian replied sadly. Shaking his head he added, "How can I help my lady? Tell me, if it is in my power I shall do it and put your spirit to rest."

Though his instincts warned him of getting involved with such a powerful curse, Corian knew he would never be able to forgive himself if he did not attempt to put this to right, and put a tragic, pained spirit to rest.

---

02:04, Today: Corian rolled 14 using 3d20 with rolls of 9,2,3.  Magical Lore (SGC/SGC/INT 14/14/14); SR 4.

ooc: Dang it, apologies again. I'll be checking the site every day now for regular posting!

"Those things I stole must be returned to their rightful owner and his body...you must bury his body...."the spirit begins to sob again and shimmering tears run down her cheeks.

Corian pondered her words for a moment. He realized getting involved in something like this could be quite dangerous; whatever was preventing the book from being burned and possibly anchoring the woman's spirit to the mortal realm could transfer its attention to Corian himself, and there was no guarantee the attention would be benevolent.

On the other hand, he dearly wanted to help the spirit, despite her crimes, and put her to rest. And then there was the thrill of the adventure itself...

"I will do it my lady!" Corian responded finally and with eagerness. "Tell me exactly, as much as you can remember, where you buried the items and where the body last lay when you committed the deed."